From the Soul of a Young Man
by Sabre1
Summary: Roger's tired of not having a purpose. PreRent.


Roger Davis sat alone at CBGB's bar. He had glass full of a dark beer in front of him and a cigarette between his fingers.

_"What the fuck am I doing anyways?"_

The thought kept passing through his mind. His life was going nowhere. The Well Hungarians were not becoming what he had anticipated. When the band had started Roger had dreams of signing a record deal and becoming the next big thing. But that was three years ago and his dreams were beginning to dwindle. All they were able to obtain was a regular three night a week gig at CBGB's.

Then there was his love life. Roger was far from lacking when it came to sex. It took almost no effort on his part to pick up any girl and bring her back to his loft. But he felt himself tiring of the mindless encounters. More and more he found himself longing for a relationship that had meaning and substance, not just an exchange of fluids and some momentary pleasure. He was, for lack of a better word, lonely.

Roger felt like he was floating around, no real direction. But that was what the bohemian life was all about, right? Having nothing to hold you down and prevent you from creating your art.

He looked at his watch and sighed, drinking his beer quickly and putting out his cigarette. He put his leather jacket on over his black tank top and stood up, heading towards the stage. The three other members of the Well Hungarians were already setting up. He nodded in greeting as they looked at him. Roger picked up his guitar and turned on the amp, tuning the guitar. He didn't need to, but it let the customers inside the bar know the show was getting ready to start. He turned around, nodded at the drummer who was already seated, and turned back around to face his small audience that was growing slowly.

They did a set of five songs before Roger had had enough. He definitely wasn't feeling it tonight and he just wanted to go home. He turned to his bassist, making sure he was out of the range of the microphone.

"Ordinary Boy and then I'm out of here." Sweat was dripping down the sides of his face and he wanted nothing more than to go home and get drunk. He didn't wait for a response before turning back to the crowd and hitting the first note.

_Insane dance underscored, in record times  
Fate twists, nobody's watching  
Eyes twitch, nobody's clockin' me  
I swear you won't believe it, the pain, the joy  
I got your number, Baby, and, Darling, you got mine_

There was no passion in his voice. He just couldn't bring himself to really get it out there when he had such a feeling of apathy in his gut.

_See, I'm not such and ordinary boy  
I spend all night just listening to your voice  
I'm not such an ordinary boy  
Break my heart, do what you will, just don't leave me alone_

_In my hand and in my mind, I see your face  
One up from violation  
One down from sympathy  
I didn't know how far to go  
Time flashes and you're gone_

It was then that he noticed her. Red hair, big green eyes. She was staring so intently at him. He felt like she was looking into him. It made him feel naked.

_I'm not such an ordinary boy  
I spend all night just listening to your voice  
I'm not such an ordinary boy  
Break my heart, do what you will, I can't leave you alone  
I understand I'm scary still, I'm always here at home_

Roger realized he had been staring at her throughout the song. And she was smiling at him. But it wasn't the same flirtatious or seductive smile he usually received from random women in the crowd. He couldn't think of the right word to describe it.

_Oh, well, I'm falling over myself now, it must be done  
Oh, well, I'm falling over myself now, it must be done  
And when you're gone, I come undone...it's over_

The song ended and Roger raised up his hand in a sort of wave to the crowd. He grabbed his towel from off stage and wiped off his face. The stage lights always made him sweat like crazy. He set off to find the mystery girl. He didn't know what it was about her. She wasn't exceptionally tall or pretty. But she stood out from the rest of the crowd like a sore thumb.

She was seated at the bar, almost as though she were waiting for him. She smiled at him and when she did her entire face lit up. He took a stool and nodded at the waiter, who set about the task of getting Roger a beer. He turned his attention to the girl now, not sure why he was so interested in talking to her.

"I'm Roger."

"I know who you are. You're Roger Davis, pretty boy front man of the Well Hungarians. Rock star, extraordinaire." She smiled at him again and watched him light a cigarette.

"And you are…?"  
"April. Ericson. I've been to a few of your shows. You've got a definite…" she paused, trying to select the right word from the vocabulary bank in her mind. "…presence."

He smiled at her and took a long drink of his beer, "You aren't a stalker, are you?"

She laughed and shook her head, "No. Not a stalker. Just a fan." Her laugh was so bright and full of life. He couldn't help but smile when he heard it.

Roger finished his beer quickly, partly due to how hot he felt. But he had to admit that it was partly due to the fact that he wanted to take this girl back to his loft as soon as possible.

"Well, April, would you like to take a walk with me?" He had used this pick up line more than once.

"And I'm sure there's no way we'll just happen to end up at your place." She winked at him.

Roger laughed, "You've got it figured out, don't you?" He looked down at the bar and then looked back up at her again. "Why don't we see what happens?"

She nodded, "Sure. Who knows? Maybe we'll happen to stop by my place instead." She winked at him again. That wink was going to drive him crazy.

Roger stood up and put his black leather jacket on. He knew it was going to be cold outside. He walked outside and she followed, immediately putting her arm around his waste. He placed his arm around her shoulder and they walked together like that, talking about as much as they could during the short walk to his loft. She did most of the talking. She was like a bundle of energy. He listened quietly, enjoying her company. She was definitely different from the others; he just couldn't put his finger on what it was.

They stayed the way they were all the way up the stairs and into the loft. Mark, Maureen, Collins, and Benny must have gone out, because the living area was empty and it was very quiet inside. Roger was grateful for avoiding introductions. They would have been polite but would have brushed her off as another one of Rogers 'careless fucks', as Maureen loved to refer to them, all the same.

She didn't argue as he led her into his bedroom. She didn't argue as they moved to the bed. And she didn't fight him as they began kissing.

Roger didn't say anything when she produced a capped syringe and a bag of white powder. He watched as she lit one of his candles and tied his arm off for him after melting the substance, then tying her own arm off. He didn't try and stop her as she pulled the brownish liquid into the barrel. She handed it to him and he stared at it for a moment before taking it from her and injecting himself.


End file.
